


where you go to rest your bones

by hydrospanners



Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic
Genre: Drabble, Family Feels, Fluff, Gen, with a small side of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-07
Updated: 2018-04-07
Packaged: 2019-04-18 08:07:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14208846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hydrospanners/pseuds/hydrospanners
Summary: Sometimes Rhese Velaran forgets how good it feels to be loved. Other times, he remembers.





	where you go to rest your bones

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on Tumblr.

There’s someone else in his bed. **  
**

On reconsideration, Rhese realizes this isn’t in his bed at all. The mattress is too soft and too large; too many pillows are piled beneath his head. Even the sheets feel different, softer.

A monitor beeps steadily at his side, connected by tubes and wires to the needle in his arm, and for a moment he thinks he’s in the medbay. But that isn’t right, either. The medbay is smaller, more harshly lit. Its standard issue cot is small, too narrow for company and too stiff for comfort. He’s spent enough time in that thing to know this isn’t it, and that’s saying nothing of the smell. It isn’t the stringent scent of sanitizer and sterility. It’s something warmer, something familiar. Like wood and spice and old leather and–

Doc. The room smells like  _Doc_.

He blinks a half-dozen times, trying to clear the sleep from his eyes. When his vision straightens out, he finds exactly the surroundings he’s expecting to see. An array of exotic weapons pinned to the far wall, a desk stacked high with datapads and tools in sore need of cleaning. Where the floor isn’t hidden by ostentatious, mismatched rugs it’s covered by discarded clothing and bits of armor.

This is his sister’s bed, and the body curled beside him is hers.

Later, he’ll think to question the wisdom of this arrangement. He’ll work up a proper indignation at the unnecessary and unwanted coddling. He’s a grown man and a Jedi besides; he can stay in the medbay like everyone else. It exists for a reason, and comfort is a small price to pay for wounds that heal without infection. Who knows the last time this room saw a good cleaning?

But for now–-For now he twists into Rea’s embrace as much as the needles will allow. It’s not like it used to be, when they were children. She was so much bigger back then, a full head taller than him, broader than him, stronger than him. She was larger than life, and he tucked into her arms like he was made to fit there.

She used to hold him all the time. Rea was so tactile, almost suffocating in her affections, but it was hard to complain. Rhese knew how hard she tried to protect him, to make him feel safe and normal and loved. He knew every touch was as much for her own comfort as his. It was the only comfort he had to offer her, so he let himself be smothered.

Now–-with the help of whichever mind-bending substance Doc’s seen fit to pump through that needle–-Rhese has to admit to himself that he did enjoy it, for his own sake and not hers. Every ruffle of his hair and pinch of his cheeks, every time she’d slung her arm around his shoulders or wrapped him in a bone-crushing embrace…

There was love in every touch. A casual, self-assured kind of love that didn’t demand recognition or reciprocation. It didn’t demand anything. It was just there, as thoughtless and necessary as breathing. And Rea was so full of it she couldn’t help just spilling it everywhere. That was just her way.

Later, he’ll ask himself where all of that affection went. He’ll remember one of Ranna’s old mantras, about actions telling truer than words, and think how often he finds her tugging on Kira’s hair and squeezing Kira’s hand. He’ll think of how easily she clings to Doc, like he’s a magnet she can’t resist, or how she’s always bumping the Sergeant’s shoulder or tapping his knee.

Later, he’ll think about how Rea only touches him when he’s on the brink of death.

But for now–-For now, Rhese tucks his head into the crook of his sister’s shoulder. For now, he digs his cold feet into the warm space between the mattress and her calves. For now, he presses his ear to her chest and lets the steady rhythm of her breaths lull him back to drowsiness.

For now, he doesn’t think at all.


End file.
